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lirik lagu one more hit (remix) – westside gunn

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[intro: westside gunn]
brr, f*ck these n*ggas, lord
ayo, brr, give a f*ck about none of these n*ggas
boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom
ayo, f*ck these n*ggas, doot, doot

[verse 1: westside gunn]
ayo, i walked up on him, i didn’t think, i just shot (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, ah)
my whip game brazy, you want it or not (want it or not, ah)
blocks with no cut, might make your heart stop (might make your heart stop, ah)
hit my n*gga with the kingpin, he never gon’ drop (ah)
i want my t*bone, we ran the opps’ sh*t with a kilo (with a kilo)
i came home, i copped a mansion and a speedboat (copped a mansion and a speedboat)
i got the ar posing on the spigol (ah)
in puerto rico, got the mac from chino nino (brr, brr, brr, got the mac from chino nino)
my paintbrush, you can’t touch, i told my b*tch i’m
richer than half the lakers, now go to sleep, you wake up
the bubble baths in vegas, bet a hundred on rick (bet a hundred on rick)
conway screw loose, he got shot in the head (he got shot in the head)
we the illest ever, hundred chains on my deathbed (ah)

[verse 2: stove god cooks]
stove jesus, i was cookin’ for three days
then it rose up out the pot, ho was on the box (woo)
the evils, verse two, sh*t touched my heart, i had to stop (i had to stop)
then got right back to whippin’, i’m on the clock (woo)
inshallah, these n*ggas wake up and know they ain’t me (inshallah)
off*white zip tie on the cross when they hang me (when they hang me)
kneel on the brick, say the lord’s chant (pray to a real n*gga)
lux*touched marble shine like the floor is damp (woo)
kilos under the hood with the porsche stamp (you see ’em?)
cartier goggles, b*tch, i’m horace grant (i’m horace grant)
40 below, look like i’m mountain climbin’, my n*gga said
his first year in the mountains, he felt like he was dyin’ (felt like it was over)
said he prayed through summer and he read through winter
then he came home rich, i had the bread delivered
b*tch, i just hit seven figures (woo)
the same night, my young shooter hit eleven n*ggas (brr, bah, bah, bah)
stove

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